


speak slow to me (and let me be)

by intolauren



Series: in another life [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Comfort Sex, F/F, Heavy Angst, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Graphic Smut, Smut, You Have Been Warned, at all, honestly there is nothing happy about this, i cried a lot, i just needed to get some stuff out, the consent is VERY mildly dubious but i needed to add that tag just in case, there's possibly no happy ending, they cry a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13208970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intolauren/pseuds/intolauren
Summary: Kara and Lena meet again after a year apart and try to pretend that time is a good healer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You've read the tags; don't blame me for anything.

Lena doesn’t know why she agreed to it. She doesn’t know why she even responded to the text. She doesn’t know why she’s doing her hair and she’s making sure her makeup is perfect and her clothes aren’t creased. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous. Why she really wants to cry. 

Except she does. 

She knows why. 

Because it’s _Kara_. 

Because as hard and cold as Lena is with everyone she meets, Kara’s the exception. Kara’s always been the exception. 

And she misses Kara so much. 

It’s been a year since they last talked, since they had any kind of contact beyond an empty email or two, usually to let the other know that they’d left something of theirs at each other’s place and that it was being mailed back. But after a couple of weeks, even the emails stopped all together. 

It’s been a year. Almost exactly to the day. 

She wonders if Kara remembers. But the possibility that Kara still thinks about her is so infinitely small that she doesn’t wonder for long. 

Lena’s trying really hard not to think about today. She’s getting ready as though she’s going to work, just going through the motions with the TV on a low volume in the background so that she can absentmindedly listen to it.

The same way she does when she goes to bed at night. 

So she doesn’t have to hear silence. 

She’s been sleeping with the TV on ever since Kara left. 

She takes a deep breath as she smoothes down her perfectly straight hair in the mirror for probably the hundredth time in an hour and is embarrassed when it catches in the back of her throat and almost sounds like a sob. 

She meets her eyes in her reflection and can hardly bear to look. 

She wants to wipe off her makeup and climb back into bed. 

Her phone buzzes and she picks it up instantly, grateful of the distraction, until she sees the name at the top of the message window. Her chest clenches and she feels sick and she almost drops her phone from the attack of emotions she experiences. 

Kara: _Hey, just thought I’d let you know that I’m at the cafe already. I know I’m early, but don’t worry about rushing to get here. I ordered you a coffee for when you arrive. You still like it black and iced with 2 sugars, right? See you soon._

Lena wishes she could reply, wishes she could tell Kara that she drinks her coffee hot and that she hates it sweet, but she can’t. Because Kara’s right. Kara remembers exactly how she takes her coffee and for some reason, that’s more painful than if she’d forgotten. And she _hates_ that Kara has to ask, has to check, because if she was here, if she never left, she wouldn’t have to check, she’d just know. 

Lena’s eyes fill with tears of their own accord, and she wonders how the hell she’s going to get through the next hour without crying. 

But she can’t put it off any longer. Because Kara’s waiting for her and it’s been almost 365 days since Lena saw her face and everything in her wants to run the nine blocks to the coffee shop and she doesn’t really have the energy to fight it anymore. 

So she touches up her lipstick and leaves her apartment. 

 

*

 

Lena doesn’t even realise she’s stopped in the middle of the sidewalk until some guy walks right into her from behind and curses at her. 

Any other day, Lena would probably turn around and curse back, but instead, she just apologises and when she does, she doesn’t recognise her own voice. 

She can see the coffee shop. _Their_ coffee shop. The coffee shop they used to spend Sunday afternoons in every weekend, Lena working, Kara reading her book, enjoying each other's quiet company whilst doing their own thing. They’d sit in silence mostly, but every now and then Kara would read her a paragraph from her book that she enjoyed or Lena would ask her opinion on something and then they’d go back into their own worlds again. 

But they were together. And Kara would always have a hand on Lena’s knee or Lena would be leaning lightly against Kara or Kara would absentmindedly be stroking patterns into Lena’s arm with her fingertip or Lena would be resting her legs in Kara’s lap. 

There was always contact between them, no matter how casual and light. Like they were always drawn to each other without even being aware of it.

Nobody has touched Lena since Kara left. She hasn’t let them. And Lena hasn’t touched anyone either. 

Lena hasn’t been back to this coffee shop in over a year. She’s barely been in this neighbourhood, in fact. Because it’s just not the same without Kara and it has too many memories that feel like lies. 

She starts walking again, and every step feels like she’s walking through thick snow. Her body feels heavy and she knows she should go home. She _knows_ she should. But she can’t. 

When she sees Kara, the entire world stops. 

She spots her from a few feet away, sitting at a table by the window. She’s staring into her latte, stirring a spoon around it. 

Lena’s breath catches in her throat and she’s dangerously close to crying already. She swallows down a sob and tries to ignore the pain in her chest. 

Kara’s just as beautiful as she remembers. 

No, she’s _more_ beautiful than she remembers. 

Her hair is a little longer and a little blonder, but everything else about her is the same. She’s wearing the same glasses, the same navy blazer Lena’s seen her in so many times, and she still drinks lattes. 

_Four sugars_ , Lena thinks to herself. 

Kara’s the only person Lena knows who has their coffee with four sugars. 

Except Lena doesn’t _know_ Kara. Not anymore. 

The thought makes Lena want to turn around and go home. 

Except, of course, Kara chooses that exact moment to look up and of course, she catches sight of Lena almost immediately. 

Lena can’t quite read the expression on Kara’s face when their eyes meet again for the first time in a year, and maybe that’s because she’s too busy trying not to choke on a sob that suddenly surfaces, or maybe it’s just because she’s too consumed with memories of the last time she saw Kara’s face like this. 

Lena wants to go home. She really wants to go home. 

But Kara is smiling then, and Lena knows it’s not a real smile but it’s a smile all the same and god she’s missed Kara’s smile, she’s missed Kara’s smile so much and seeing it now just makes Lena feel like she’s already home anyway. 

She tries to smile back but she knows she doesn’t quite manage it and she knows that it doesn’t really matter but she hates herself all the same for it. 

She isn’t sure whether she’s mad at herself for being unable to control her emotions, or whether she’s just mad at herself for being so stupid and agreeing to this in the first place. 

But she’s taking a deep breath and entering the coffee shop anyway and she’s barely been inside for two seconds before the smell and the sounds are almost too much to bear. 

She wonders how a place can feel so familiar and so foreign at the same time. 

She can’t stop herself from glancing to her left, over at the couch she and Kara spent their Sunday afternoons on and she instantly regrets it, regrets everything, because it’s as though she can physically see them sitting there, sharing a muffin and holding onto each other’s hands. 

She forces herself to look away. 

Kara’s watching her, Lena feels it before she even looks back, and she knows she needs to get it together, needs to stop letting herself be so vulnerable, otherwise she’s never going to get through this lunch.

So she smiles. And Kara smiles back, and just like that, Lena knows she can’t do it. She can’t pretend.

But she tries anyway. 

She _really_ tries. 

*

The conversation is light. Too light. There’s too much neither of them is saying. Not enough silence between words. Everything is forced. 

It never used to be like this before.

They talk about the weather, about work, about how Alex is doing. Lena does a lot of listening, because it’s easier to pretend she doesn’t notice how awful and _wrong_ this all feels when she doesn’t have to speak. And Kara seems happy enough to talk enough for the both of them, anyway. Because some things never change. 

There’s a point though, in the middle of Kara telling Lena about how Alex and Maggie are getting married soon, where something changes. 

Her eyes go soft and her facade slips and Lena swears it’s like watching the fight literally fall from her. Kara stops in the middle of her sentence, and Lena sees her visibly inhale deeply. 

The look in Kara’s eyes cuts through Lena like the weight of a thousand planets. 

Because it almost looks like she misses her. 

_Almost_. 

Except it’s not almost at all, it's _exactly_ what it looks like. 

“Lena…” Kara says, and Lena’s heart breaks, right there and then. 

Just one word and she’s done. 

One quiet hush of her name and Lena can’t fight it anymore. 

Except somehow, she does. She manages to hold on. 

She pretends she hasn’t heard and pretends to take a sip of her coffee even though she finished it half an hour ago. 

“I’m sorry for making you do this,” Kara continues after a minute or two. “I can hardly bear to look at you.” 

Lena shrugs. “You didn’t make me do anything,” she says. 

Her voice sounds strange. She knows Kara notices. 

“Lena…” she says again, and it’s her voice, it’s her _fucking voice_ that makes Lena snap. 

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t say my name like that. You don’t get to say my name like that anymore,” Lena says, but she’s lying because all she wants is to hear Kara say her name like that, over and over and over until she’s so numb that she can’t breathe. 

But now she’s broken the seal and she can’t stop and she hates herself. 

“ _You_ chose this, Kara. So you don’t get to sit there and say my name like that. Like you miss me. This was _your_ choice. _You_ left. You left me-“ Her voice cracks and _god_ she hates herself. “I mean, I get it, I completely get it. You left and I don’t blame you. But you don’t get to sit there and say my name like you regret it. You just _don’t_. That’s not how this works.” 

Lena’s words hurt Kara, she sees the exact moment they do, and she hates herself even more. She can hardly even breathe with the weight of the sob she’s holding back. 

Kara looks down, looks away from her, but Lena sees her cry anyway. She sees two tear drops fall into Kara’s lap. Sees Kara try to wipe them away discreetly. Sees the rise and fall of her shoulders as she tries to regain control of her emotions. 

Before, Lena would kneel down in front of her and tell her that it’s okay, whatever it is, it’s okay. That she can cry, that it’s okay to cry, that she loves her no matter what. 

Now, she stays silent. 

She wonders how much longer she can grip her coffee mug before it cracks and shatters into a hundred pieces. 

But if Lena isn’t gripping _something_ , she knows she’ll reach for Kara’s hand. 

“You didn’t even tell me what I did,” Lena says, her voice flat and empty even though her entire body aches with tension and anger and loss. “I’d rather you have screamed and yelled in my face than leave without telling me what I did. I never got closure, Kara, because I never fucking understood what I did that was so bad that you felt like you had to leave. I mean, I get it, because everyone I know leaves me, but you… You were the _one_ person I let myself believe I could be enough for. But I should have known better. And I’m sorry for whatever I did, I just want you to know that.” 

Lena stops, because she’s empty now, she’s said everything she has to say. And she’s sure she has about 60 seconds of vague composure left before she completely loses it and she doesn’t want to lose it here. Not like this. 

“You didn’t- It wasn’t- Lena, I-“ 

Kara’s struggling just as much as Lena is, she can see it in her eyes as she finally looks up at her again. Her cheeks are flushed and her blue eyes that always reminded Lena of either the ocean or the sky depending on what mood she was in, are watery and red and Lena wonders if maybe Kara had been crying before she even came here today. 

“You don’t get it, Kara. I let myself love you. I let myself believe that you loved me. And then you left. Nobody has ever loved me, not really. But I know you did, _I know it_ , and that's what hurts more than anything. I _know_ you loved me but I wasn’t enough and it’s okay, you know? It’s okay. That’s not your fault. But we can’t-“ 

“I _do_ love you, Lena,” Kara interrupts. “I still love you. I’ll always love you.” 

But Lena doesn’t hear her. She _can’t_. She can’t hear that Kara loves her. Nothing hurts more than hearing Kara say that she loves her. 

“I should go,” Lena says, and she stands up from the table, and she’s really about to walk away from Kara, she really is. 

Except of course she isn’t. And before she can even register what’s happening, Kara has hold of her hand. 

She’s crying and she’s pleading with Lena not to leave but Lena can’t hear what she’s saying because Kara’s holding her hand. 

Her body has never forgotten what holding Kara’s hand was like, not even for a second, but at the same time, it’s like its remembering what it feels like again for the first time in a long time. 

Lena’s chest hurts, it really _fucking hurts_ and she doesn’t even realise that she’s gripping Kara’s hand back until it’s too late. 

She doesn’t know how she’s ever going to let go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I just want to say before you read this that I had literally NO intentions of writing another part. AT ALL. But I kept getting asked what Kara did, why she left and I just... I want to say that I literally don't know. Because I was having feelings about my own experiences and I needed to try and make sense of them and that's literally the only reason why I wrote the first chapter. But then I kept thinking about how I'd like things to go if I got a second chance with someone, and I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I figured that Kara and Lena needed more time to talk and I REALLY wanted to give that to them. So I wrote this. And I still don't know what Kara did, at all, but writing this chapter was really therapeutic for me anyway and hopefully I'll be able to wrap it up nicely eventually with one more chapter. But please bear with me! 
> 
> Note the rating change and the additional tags. It's still heavy and full of angst, but hopefully it's a little lighter than the first? :) 
> 
> I would REALLY appreciate your thoughts on this. It's been hard for me to write for so many reasons and I really do love reading and replying to comments!!

They’re drunk. 

Lena doesn’t really remember how or why or when they’d decided to leave the coffee shop and go back to Kara’s apartment, but here they are. She vaguely remembers Kara suggesting tequila, and even though Lena has never really been a huge fan of tequila, she had found herself accepting a shot, and then another, and now suddenly an hour has gone by and the two of them are drunk. 

Kara has a bottle of something too, Lena doesn’t ask what it is, but whatever it is has the same effect on her as the tequila Lena’s drinking. 

She can tell they’re drunk by the colour of Kara’s cheeks. Which is ridiculous, really. 

This isn’t at all how Lena had imagined the day would end. And she cannot shake the feeling inside of her that keeps insisting she’s going to regret this come morning. 

But the tequila helps. 

When Kara holds up her bottle and takes a drink straight from it, forgoing the shot glass completely, Lena finds herself absolutely mesmerised by the way she sees the liquor slide down her throat as she swallows.

Kara has a beautiful neck. 

Lena misses her so much.

“You okay?” Kara asks, and Lena realises with a blush that she’s staring. 

She nods and picks up her own bottle, following suit and taking a drink straight from it the way Kara had. 

They’re sitting on the floor of Kara’s living room, on opposite sides of her coffee table, the bottles of liquor between them. It’s dusk, and the setting sun has cast an orange glow onto everything. 

Kara’s apartment looks exactly the same, but it feels different. It takes Lena awhile to figure out what’s different. 

It’s… _empty_.

Not of possessions because Kara’s place has always been full of quirky little trinkets and mismatched furniture. 

It’s empty of… _warmth_. 

Kara’s energy could always light up a room before, and that was never more evident than when she was in her apartment. The entire place always made Lena feel comforted and safe. 

But that’s missing now, and Lena wonders aloud if Kara’s been here much over the last year. 

Kara shrugs. “I don’t sleep as much as I used to. I prefer to just fly around and help out wherever I can during the night. And when I do sleep, I kind of like to do it up there.” 

She guestres to the sky and shrugs again. There’s so much weight to her shrug and Lena shivers. 

She wants to ask why but she feels as though she lost the right to ask when Kara walked away a year ago. 

“It’s really dark up there. I like that,” Kara continues after a moment, taking another drink. 

Lena wonders what in the world happened to make Kara Danvers enjoy darkness. 

She worries herself as she thinks about Kara not getting enough sleep. She wonders if she remembers to eat, remembers to take time for herself just to watch TV or read her favourite book, the book she used to read at least five times a year just because it made her happy. 

Her brain calls her a hypocrite for worrying about Kara when she herself can’t remember the last time she didn’t fall asleep at her desk in her office, only waking up with a stiff neck and a dry mouth when the sun rose a couple of hours later. 

Falling asleep at work and then rushing home to shower and change before her first meeting or conference or interview is easier than falling asleep in a bed that no longer has Kara in it, Lena figures.

So…” Lena says. “We were going to do more than just drink, right? I think you mentioned something about talking.” 

The alcohol has blurred a lot of lines, and for a brief moment, Lena finds herself forgetting that it’s been a year, forgetting that everything has changed between them. 

“Yeah. I did say that, didn’t I?” Kara laughs somewhat uncomfortably, and in another life, Lena lets herself lean over the table to press a soft kiss to Kara’s lips, reassuring her that it’s okay, that she can talk to her about anything. 

In this life, she stills and plays with her hands under the table. 

“Before I start, you have to promise me something, okay, Lee?” Kara says, her voice sounding warm and loose, more proof that Kara is drunk and Lena’s head snaps up at the casual use of her old nickname. Kara’s the only person who ever called her that and Lena wonders if Kara even realises she said it. Hearing her call her by it again makes Lena feel soft inside. 

She frowns and blames the tequila. 

“I mean it. You don’t forgive me for this. No matter what I tell you, I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Kara continues, and even though her voice is warm and laced with liquor, Lena knows she’s serious. 

“You say that as though I’m a person who forgives anyone,” Lena responds. 

Kara meets her eyes and doesn’t even hesitate. “You’re the most forgiving person I know.” 

Lena’s heart skips a beat. _Painfully_. 

She laughs, dismissively. “I think you have me confused for someone else, Kara.” 

“You’re here, aren’t you? If I were you, I wouldn’t even give me the time of day after what I did to you.” Kara stops and takes a drink from her bottle. “That alone worries me. Because I don’t deserve even that.” 

Lena stares at her. 

Kara’s changed out of her blazer into an oversized sweater and a pair of grey leggings and she’s piled all of her hair on top of her head into a bun. She looks so different from the Kara she met with in the coffee shop earlier. _This_ Kara is completely open, completely vulnerable, softer around the edges and she’s absolutely breathtaking. 

In the fading daylight, Kara looks ethereal. 

Lena swallows hard, and she swears Kara’s eyes drift to her neck as her throat contracts. Her skin feels alive under Kara’s gaze. 

“I won’t make a promise I can’t keep,” Lena says, and Kara’s brow creases for a second, as though she momentarily can’t remember the conversation they were having, and when her brain catches up, she sighs. 

“Then we can’t talk,” she says. 

Lena shrugs. “So we don’t talk.” 

Kara blinks, and she looks at Lena almost as though she’s disappointed with her response. Whatever Kara had been expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. But Lena figures she doesn’t owe Kara anything, and even if she did, she simply cannot promise that she won’t forgive her.

Because the chances are, she probably will. 

There’s a lot of silence then. It feels like hours and seconds at the same time. 

The sun sets a little more. 

They finish their bottles of liquor. 

Lena starts to wonder for some reason what would happen if time stopped and they were the only two people who weren’t affected by it. 

She wonders how many things had to happen, how many minute and intricate details came together, so that she and Kara could exist together in this moment. Her brain can’t fully comprehend it, there’s so many, and tomorrow morning, she’ll try and remember this exact train of thought when she looks for an excuse or explanation for what she’s about to do. She’ll blame it on not wanting to waste precious molecules. On too many quantum physics documentaries. 

She stands, and as she does, she realises just how inebriated she is because she has to take a second to steady herself and find her balance. That should have been warning sign number one. And it is, _it is_ , but Lena isn’t looking for danger right now and there isn’t a single muscle in her body that even remembers what fight or flight is anyway. 

She rounds the table once she’s sure she isn’t going to sway too hard and fall over and then she drops to the floor in front of Kara, her knees colliding hard with the floor. 

She kisses her. 

Everything stops. 

Time, space… _everything_. 

Lena feels Kara’s hands on her shoulders and she’s trying to push her away, but Lena knows how strong Kara is, knows that if she really wanted her to stop, then she’d make her stop. 

So she kisses her harder. Forces her tongue into Kara’s mouth. Bites Kara’s lower lip. Curls her hands in Kara’s hair. 

She knows Kara’s fighting her and in the back of her mind, she knows she should stop, but she can’t because having Kara like this makes Lena realise that she’s her oxygen, her gravity, and she has no idea how she’s been alive the last year. 

When Kara moans Lena’s name and finally, _finally_ , kisses her back, Lena considers that maybe she hasn’t actually been alive at all. Not until now. 

The hands that moments ago were pushing Lena away fall to her forearms, pulling them and wrapping them around her waist tightly as Kara leans up onto her knees the same way Lena is and presses her entire upper body against Lena’s, their chests flush against each other’s. 

Lena reaches for the elastic in Kara’s hair that’s holding it all on top of her head and pulls it free, letting Kara’s soft, blonde waves escape and fall down her back. 

Later, she’ll wonder why it felt so important to feel Kara’s long hair in her hands. 

Their kiss is hard and passionate and messy and Lena’s lungs are burning and she knows she needs to breathe but she’s terrified that if she stops to catch her breath, Kara will leave her again and that maybe this time, she won’t survive it. 

As though Kara can read her mind though, she pulls away from her mouth, and before Lena can sob in protest, Kara’s pressing open mouthed kisses to Lena’s neck, sucking and biting her skin, the feel of her warm tongue making Lena’s entire body tingle. 

She chokes down lungfuls of air, her head dropping back to give Kara more access to her neck, and she can’t even find it within herself to be embarrassed by the needy sounds she makes when Kara complies. 

“I missed you so much,” Lena gasps, slipping her hands under Kara’s shirt and stroking them along the bare skin of her back. “I’m so s-“ 

She’s about to apologise, and Kara must know she is, because suddenly Kara has Lena on her back and she’s straddling her waist and once again, Lena finds herself completely breathless, breathless enough that she couldn’t apologise even if she tried which she supposes was Kara’s plan all along. 

“Don’t you dare,” Kara says, before pressing her mouth back to Lena’s, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth hard. “Ever. Okay?” 

Lena finds herself nodding because _god_ she’ll agree to anything Kara suggests, even if agreeing is the same thing as lying. 

Lena reaches for the hem of Kara’s sweater and grabs it with both hands, pulling it up over her head, and Kara breaks their kiss for barely a second to let her. 

Even though it’s for barely a second, Lena feels that all too familiar ache in her chest the moment Kara’s lips leave hers, and she swallows down a sob. 

It’s going to hurt so much when Kara leaves her again. 

Thinking about the pain of what will come makes Lena fearless. 

She drops her hands from Kara’s back and grabs her ass in both hands, squeezing hard and pulling her hips into her own. Kara’s mouth falls from hers in a moan, before she reaches for Lena’s shirt and tugs it over her head in a move that would be impressive if Lena wasn’t so used to Kara’s strength and speed from before. 

The thought of _before_ makes Lena ache, and she wonders if the loneliness of the last year will ever go away, if she’ll ever be able to forget it. She wants to stop thinking about it, she wants to be here in the moment with Kara like she’s cried herself to sleep thinking about more times than she can count, but she’s struggling because even though she’s here, it’s not the same, nothing is the same.

“Lena?” Kara asks, her voice soft and so _affected_ , and she sounds so confused and it takes Lena a second to realise that that’s because she’s frozen from thinking too hard. 

“I’m fine,” Lena insists, and for emphasis, she squeezes Kara’s ass again and grinds her hips into her. “Please. Touch me,” she begs.

She needs her, she needs her to make the emptiness stop. 

Lena expects Kara to just resume kissing her but she doesn’t, and instead she presses her lips to the pale, creamy skin of her chest and lavishes her with her tongue before sucking a nipple into her mouth hard. 

Under normal circumstances, Lena would probably be embarrassed by the way she reacts to that. The way she jerks her hips into Kara’s and cries out her name in a way that almost sounds like a sob. 

But it’s just been _so long_ since someone touched her, since somehow took care of her, since _Kara_ touched her, since _Kara_ took care of her, and the way her body reacts to finally being back underneath her is hardly a surprise. 

Before Lena met Kara, she’d never been any good at letting go, at sitting back and letting things just happen sometimes, at losing control. But Kara changed all of that. Kara helped her learn how good it could feel to not be in control all the time, how good it could feel to just accept sometimes that she‘d done enough. 

That she _was enough_. 

But since Kara left, Lena’s forgotten once again what it feels like to let go, and she’s fallen so easily back into meticulous planning and always taking the blame and always, always, _always_ needing to control every single aspect of her life so that nothing is ever unexpected. 

But this, _now_ , she could never have planned for. And being with Kara like this makes her feel like maybe this is the one thing she cannot ever control, and the acceptance that follows that thought makes Lena feel alive. 

She tries to stop thinking. 

And with messy and uncoordinated hands, she reaches for the waistband of Kara’s pants as Kara continues to tease her breasts with her mouth.

She needs to show Kara how much she’s missed her, how empty she’s been without her, how sorry she is for forcing her to walk away. Lena’s good at this, she’s always been good at this. She’s always been good at apologising like this and letting people take from her whatever they need to take. 

Kara’s wet, _so wet_ , Lena feels it on her fingertips as she shoves her hand into Kara’s pants. 

She barely hesitates before pushing two fingers inside her because all she can think about is how much she misses her, how much she loves her, how empty she is without her, and without words, this is the only way Lena knows how to express it. 

Kara’s mouth falls from Lena’s chest and she moans her name but even as she does, Lena feels her start to pull back and at the same time, she feels her chest cavity contract as though it’s about to snap and pierce her heart into a million pieces. 

She needs Kara, she needs her so much, and she’s so desperate that she can’t breathe, so desperate that she grips hold of her so tightly in a way that would definitely bruise if Kara were human, trying with every ounce of strength she has to stop Kara from leaving again. 

“Lena, Lena, wait, please,” Kara says, and she’s so breathless and it would be so easy to ignore her, so easy to make her forget what she’s saying. “Stop, Lena. Please.” 

Lena doesn’t want to stop. But she does. Because Kara’s asking and she’ll do anything for her. 

She accepts then that maybe this is it. That maybe this is really the end. That it’s actually over. 

“I don’t want to do this,” Kara whispers, sitting up, climbing off of Lena and sitting down on the floor next to her. 

Lena’s heart breaks, even though she’s been expecting this. 

Kara looks so confused, her cheeks flushed, her naked chest heaving, her glasses askew, and looking at her makes Lena want to cry because she considers that all of this is _her_ fault; maybe she should just have fought harder to make Kara stay. Maybe she should have done more. Been a better partner. 

“I mean, I do, I do want to do this, you have no idea how much I want to do this, but I don’t want- I can’t- Not like this, Lena. Not when we’re drunk and I haven’t told you why I did what I did and not when I’m not sure I can control myself enough not to hurt you and not when we can’t both fully consent to all of this. I can’t do that to you, Lee. You deserve better and I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry.” 

Kara’s words are thick with unshed tears and they’re so slurred and she realises just how drunk they are. She’s right about them; they can’t do this, Lena can’t deny that. 

And Kara’s not the only one who is afraid of hurting someone. 

“Don’t leave me,” Lena says, it’s the only thing she can say, and she wishes she could hate herself for how pathetic she sounds but she can’t, because the alternative is Kara thinking she can live without her. 

“I won’t, I promise, I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here, I missed you so much,” Kara sobs. 

She’s crying. Sweet, beautiful Kara is crying but she isn’t saying no, she isn’t saying that this is over so that has to be a good thing, right? 

Lena finds herself pulling Kara’s body into hers, wrapping her arms tightly around her, their skin so warm. Kara cries against her chest and it takes Lena a few seconds to realise that she’s crying too. 

Time begins passing again. 

Neither of them move, except to press soft kisses to each other’s neck or shoulder or lips every now and then when there’s a break in their tears. 

Eventually Lena stops crying and then Kara stops crying too and a little while after that, half in a daze they realise that night has somehow fallen around them. 

“We should sleep,” Kara says, and Lena doesn’t quite understand her use of the word we until she stands, shakily, and holds out her hand, inviting Lena to hold it. 

Lena hesitates, because she still doesn’t understand why Kara is reaching out for her when she’s said she doesn’t want to have sex with her. 

“Don’t you want to stay?” Kara asks, and the uncertainty in her voice makes Lena want to start crying all over again even though she’s pretty sure she has no tears left. 

“You want me to stay?” Lena asks, because how can she not? She can’t remember the last time anyone asked her to stay. 

Kara looks at her then, and Lena sees her consider that maybe she’s the reason why Lena has to ask, and she recognises the guilt and self hatred in Kara’s eyes because she sees the same in her own every time she looks in the mirror. 

“I’m so sorry, Lena,” Kara whispers, and the sound of her voice breaks Lena’s heart. 

She almost tells Kara that it isn’t her fault. 

But it _is_. 

So she says nothing. 

She takes Kara’s hand and stands up. 

She lets Kara lead her into her bedroom. Kara gets into bed first and opens her arms out, inviting Lena to join her. Lena complies, because she can’t remember how to think for herself anymore and she’s _so tired_ and she needs someone to tell her what to do. 

Lena falls asleep wrapped in Kara’s arms, her head on Kara’s bicep, their clothes still forgotten on the living room floor and for the first time in a long time, her sleep is dreamless and deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a comment, please! Or a kudos. Or both if you want to. (Honestly, either/or means the world to me.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before.

It’s dusk. Again. 

When Kara thinks about how so much time has passed since she woke up next to Lena, she wonders how it happened without her realising. How quickly a day can go by when you’re lying next to the person you love more than you’ve ever loved anyone, knowing fine well that you can’t keep them. 

Every time Kara tries to talk, to really _talk_ to Lena, Lena shushes her and tells her it doesn’t matter. Tells her she doesn’t care. Tells her she doesn’t need to know. 

Kara’s sure Lena knows they don’t have much time left together either and that’s why she won’t let her talk. 

But Kara needs to explain, and she _will_ , just… not yet. 

She’ll leave at midnight, and by midnight, Lena will know the truth. 

But it’s 5pm now and the setting sun is shining through the window and Lena looks more beautiful than Kara has ever seen her, and she won’t be able to look at her if she starts talking now, so she’s keeping her mouth closed. 

Kara’s never wished she could read minds; her powers are already overwhelming enough sometimes without adding another into the mix. But she’d do anything to know what Lena’s thinking right now without having to ask. 

They’re lying in bed. They’ve barely moved all day, and Lena’s blaming that on her hangover, but Kara knows that’s not the reason. She wishes that were the only reason. But Kara knows Lena, and she knows when Lena is scared, and she doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know that right now, Lena’s terrified. 

She’s terrified too. 

She doesn’t want this to end, but she knows it has to. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Lena says, shifting beside Kara, pulling her arms tighter around her body. “Don’t ruin this by thinking too much.” 

Kara smiles, but her eyes fill with tears and she’s glad Lena has her back to her because she doesn’t want her to see her cry. Kara trails her fingertips along Lena’s forearm. It makes her think about a question people always ask: _how much can you lift? Like, do you think you could carry two planes? A 60-storey building? Do you think you could hold a planet?_

She thinks about how she’s holding the entire universe in her arms right now. 

“Lena, we need to-“ 

“If you say talk, I will hit you.” 

Kara laughs, and it feels like kryptonite through her chest. In fact, that would probably hurt less. 

She kisses the back of Lena’s head anyway. Lets herself feel all of Lena’s body pressed into hers. Lets Lena’s warmth become her warmth. Lets herself think for a few moments that she can have this. Because maybe she deserves the pain of knowing that she can’t. 

She thinks back to this morning, when she’d woken up expecting Lena to be gone. How confused she’d been to find out that she’d stayed. How soft and broken Lena had sounded when she’d whispered _“lets just have today, okay?”_

Kara isn’t doing this for herself. She’s doing this for Lena. She’d do anything for Lena. 

Except she’s torn because she knows everything will hurt so much more when she leaves again, and she wonders if letting them have today was really for Lena after all. She has to hurt Lena soon, and maybe she should have just got it over and done with already. Maybe all of this is making things worse. 

But they’ve had today. Today has been theirs. And they’ve existed in a weird sort of place where nothing feels real for the last eighteen hours. A place where _before_ didn’t happen and _after_ isn’t about to. Where they’re just Kara and Lena, and they’re in love and it’s okay. It’s all okay. 

A place where they can watch musicals and eat pancakes and hold each other and it’s okay. 

She doesn’t know why they’re doing this, why Lena is still here, why she’s giving her so much when she doesn’t deserve any of it.

“I’m so sorry,” Kara whispers into Lena’s hair, and she feels Lena’s entire body stiffen at her words. She’s said the same three words so many times today, but they have the same effect on Lena each time. 

Kara hears her breath catch, hears her heart stutter, hears her whisper back, “I know.”

“Can we talk? Please?” Kara asks, and even as she’s saying it, she’s hoping Lena will shake her head again. Tell her no another time. 

But she doesn’t. “If we talk, it’s over, right?”

Kara’s chest cavity suddenly feels way too small. She feels like choking on her own breath, but she doesn’t let herself because she doesn’t get to feel like she’s drowning, not when walking into the water in the first place was her choice. 

She whispers, “I love you,” because she doesn’t know what else to say. 

Lena stills completely beside her. “Talk to me, Kara,” she says. “Tell me everything. Help me understand. Please.” 

Lena sounds on the edge of breaking. And Kara doesn’t deserve her, she really just _doesn’t deserve her_ and so she unwinds her arms from around Lena and sits up, her back against the headboard. Holding onto Lena makes Kara brave and Kara doesn’t deserve to feel brave because she’s the furthest thing from it. 

If Kara really were brave, she would never have left. 

“You don’t have to understand any of this, Lena. And I meant what I said yesterday; don’t you dare forgive me for this.” 

Lena turns over so she’s lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. Her skin is tinged pink with warmth and Kara wants nothing more than to bury herself into it, into Lena, forever. 

Kara has had this conversation with Lena a million times in her head since she left her a year ago. Since _before_ she left, in fact. But that choking sensation is back and Kara doesn’t know how she’s ever going to get the words out. 

“It’s okay, Kara. I’m not going anywhere,” Lena says softly, and the sound of her voice makes Kara suddenly angry because she’s so good, Lena’s _so good_ and no one on the planet deserves her. 

“Don’t. Don’t try and make this easy for me. I don’t deserve that,” Kara replies, sharply, her entire body overflowing with worthlessness. 

Lena shrugs. “But what about me? Don’t you think _I deserve_ to hear it? Don’t you think I deserve to hear why you left me? Are you ever actually going to tell me unless somehow it feels a little bit easier to do so?” 

Kara looks at her and she doesn’t want to look away because she _can’t_ lose her, she just can’t lose Lena, and all she can think about is that soon she has to. 

“You deserve to know,” Kara replies. 

Lena smiles, and Kara wants to cry because no one alive has ever been as beautiful as Lena is. “So tell me. And let me hold your fucking hand while you do,” she grins, and as she slips her hand into Kara’s, Kara knows without a doubt that Lena is the best thing that ever happened to her. 

“It wasn’t easy,” Kara begins, because she has to start somewhere otherwise she’s never going to get the words out. “Everything about you has always been easy, but leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. And I just need you to know that before I tell you anything else. 

I’ve done a lot of running, Lena. Physically, mentally, emotionally… but you were one of the only things I ever wanted to run _towards_. You were- you _are_ , home to me. Ever since I met you, I felt that. And I know all of this seems irrelevant now after what I did but I need you to know it anyway. You know, don’t you? You know what you meant to me, right?” Kara asks, and she looks down at Lena who is still lying facing the ceiling, holding onto her hand. 

Lena’s eyes flutter closed and she takes a deep breath. Kara hears what sounds like a sob inside Lena’s chest, hears the familiar beat of her heart. 

“I never understood it, Kara, but I knew. I always knew that you loved me.” 

Kara considers Lena’s words, lets them settle inside her, lets them take up permanent residence somewhere inside her heart. She’s going to need them if she’s ever going to survive the rest of her life without Lena. 

“There was… _so much_ I should have talked to you about,” Kara continues. “But I left instead. Because I was afraid mostly, but also because I never for a second believed I was enough for you and the moment a real reason to walk away from you arose, I took it and went with it without letting myself consider how that might make you feel. Because I always thought that me leaving was what’s best for you. But then I saw you yesterday and I just- I was wrong and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for leaving, Lena.” 

Kara stops, because it’s all too much and everything she’s saying is starting to feel like an excuse, like she’s trying to make excuses and she knows she’s never going to be able to find the right words to tell Lena everything and the urge to just run is so overpowering and she can’t understand why she’s still here. 

Except she can. 

Because Lena’s holding her hand. 

After _everything_ , Lena’s still holding her hand. 

“I’m not- I was never like you, Lena. You’re strong and passionate and you fight so effortlessly when you believe in something and you pick your battles so perfectly and you know what you want and you’re just… I fell so hard. And it scared me because I’ve never fallen before, not for anyone, and definitely not the way I fell for you. I’ve just never really been interested, you know? In anyone. Nobody ever made my heart flutter or anything, and I think I’d just resigned to that. I didn’t think I could feel any kind of attraction for anyone. I put it down to being an alien, but it never really made sense, because I always knew that other aliens cope perfectly fine with attraction and everything else that comes along with it. But it was fine, because I had more important things to worry about all the time. And being Supergirl helped so much because I always had other things to focus on. 

And then I walked into your office and it’s like the whole world just stopped and I couldn't even think anymore unless it was about you. It scared me so much because I’d completely resigned to never feeling anything for anyone, let alone anything for a _woman_. Much less a woman like _you_. I never really dealt with how I felt about my sexuality until it was too late, until I was already in love with you, and then all these feelings started popping up and confusing everything because how could I feel so ashamed of loving you when you were _everything_ to me and I knew I’d do anything to make you happy? It was never about _you_ , Lena, or at least it was never about you being a Luthor anyway, it was about you being a _woman_ , and it terrified me when I realised that. But we’d been together for months by that point and it was too late and I just couldn’t understand why I was feeling the way I was feeling. 

It didn’t make any sense, at all. It wasn’t like being gay was a foreign concept to me because I’d spent enough time around Alex and Maggie to understand that there isn’t any difference between loving a man and loving a woman. But I guess I’d just never stopped to consider that I would also fall in love with a girl one day and I just- _rao_ , am I even making sense? I feel like I’m not making any sense and I-“ 

“Hey. You’re doing great. It’s okay,” Lena interrupts, squeezing Kara’s hand tightly. 

Kara looks down at her for the first time in awhile and all she can see in her eyes is understanding. She’s lying there, completely vulnerable, completely open to anything Kara needs to say, the fading sunlight dancing on her skin, and Kara doesn’t know how she’s ever going to live without her. 

She tells her that and Lena sighs. 

They don’t have much time left. Kara knows Lena can feel it too. 

“Talk to me, Kara,” Lena whispers, and Kara’s never heard Lena’s voice sound so empty. 

It breaks her heart. But she talks. Because Lena’s asking and she’d do _anything_ for her. 

“I know you always used to say how different we were, how we came from different worlds, and we _did_ , literally, but other than that, Lena, we were the same. We were both abandoned by the people who were supposed to love us, and maybe it wasn’t in the same way or for the same reasons, but it’s true all the same. We both grew up knowing nothing but loss, nothing but fear, and maybe we present it differently in everyday life, but we’re the same deep down. We leave before we can be left because to risk being left again- we can’t bear it. And we don’t consider enough that people might actually need us to stick around, because for the longest time, we didn’t think we could ever be needed by anyone. You know?” 

Lena nods. 

She knows. Kara _knows_ that Lena knows. 

Kara lets out a breath. 

She’s almost done explaining and yet she feels like she’s only just begun. 

She wants to go back to last night, to right before they decided to drink and the sun was only just beginning to set and they had the whole night ahead of them with no idea how it would end, and she wants to relive all of that over and over for the rest of her life. It still won’t be be enough; Kara knows she could never have enough of Lena, but it would be something. 

“Because of the life that I lead, I knew sooner or later that I would put you in danger. That someone would use you to get to me and I couldn’t bear that either,” Kara continues, trying to make her words last an eternity because she knows their time is almost up. “And that was just the final reason, you know? The final part of my decision to leave. I took all of my unwarranted shame for loving you, all of my grief and loss and abandonment insecurities, and all of the fear I felt whenever someone or something got too close to you as a way of getting to me, and I ran. Literally. I ran all the way to Southern Africa, actually. I didn’t even realise what I was doing. I just… I had to leave. I didn’t consider that maybe you needed me just as much as I needed you, and I know that I should have. I know I should have talked to you about it all instead of running away but I- I couldn’t. 

I almost came back. So many times. Almost everyday, in fact. You have no idea how many times I almost came back. And when I texted you and asked you to meet up, I was drunk. I never would have sent it otherwise. I figured you’d ignore it anyway, but you didn’t and I should have known really. 

But it wasn’t you, Lena, okay? None of it. It was never about you. It was me and I chose this for selfish reasons, the main one being that I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and it terrified me. It still does. It always will. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I wish things could be different, I wish we were different people and I wish I could change the way I feel about you so that none of this hurts either of us but I can’t, I just _can’t_ and I can’t stay because it’s not fair, on me, on you… none of this makes any sense, Lena, and I know it doesn’t but I have to leave. I have to leave because I love you. Do you understand?” 

Kara’s crying, she’s almost sobbing, but somehow her voice is calm beneath her tears. 

Lena looks at her. Looks at her like maybe it’s one of the last time she ever will. 

_It is._

She nods. “I understand.” 

She looks at Lena and commits everything about this moment to memory. 

Lena’s cocoa coloured hair splayed out on the pillow, her sapphire green eyes that have always been able to see right through her, her porcelain skin lying softly against the bed sheets, dust particles too small for the human eye to see dancing along Lena’s collarbones, along her cheekbones, the feel of Lena’s pulse against her palm where their hands are joined, the steady and solid beating of Lena heart, the sound that has been Kara’s main source of comfort ever since the very first time she heard it. 

She’s going to have to unlearn the sound of it. She doesn’t know how, but she’ll figure it out. She won’t ever be able to fully leave unless she learns to stop listening for the sound of Lena’s heart. For the last year, she’s selfishly let herself listen to Lena’s heart for hours every night before she falls asleep, for a few seconds before every fight, for a few minutes before going back into a stressful work day. 

It’s the only thing that has kept her sane. 

It lights her way.

She wonders if she should tell Lena about that. 

Lena smiles at her, but it doesn’t look right, it’s not a real smile, it’s a smile full of loss and regret and _pain_ and Kara can’t bear it but she also can’t look away, not ever, and she really has no idea how she’s going to walk away soon. 

“I should probably go,” Kara says. 

“This is your apartment,” Lena replies, and she laughs. 

Kara laughs too. She can’t help it. “Right. This is my apartment. I live here.” 

The sound of Lena’s laugh after the day they’ve just spent together is more than Kara could have ever hoped for. 

It’s perfect. 

_She’s_ perfect. 

“But I’m gonna go anyway. It might be easier if I go and then come back when you’ve gone. You can take all the time you need. I’ll know when you’ve left. Okay?” Kara asks, and she doesn’t even know why it makes sense to do things this way. It just does. 

Lena nods. “Okay.” 

It’s quiet. There aren’t many words left to say. 

“Thank you for giving me today,” Lena says.

“I love you, Lena Luthor,” Kara whispers in response.

Lena sits up. Leans over. Tentatively traces her fingertips along Kara’s cheekbone almost as though she’s letting herself remember one final time that she’s real, that what they have is real and it always will be. 

“I’ll always love you, Kara Danvers,” Lena whispers back, before pressing her lips softly to Kara’s temple. 

She rests there for a while, her lips and her fingertips on her skin and Kara doesn’t think she’s ever been touched so gently in all her life. 

It stops her heart. 

When it starts up again, Kara knows it’s time to go.

It’s 11:58pm. 

“I love you,” she whispers again. “I love you so much. I’ll never stop.” 

Lena nods. Her eyes fill with tears. 

“Somewhere, we’re right for each other. Somewhere, it’s the right time and we’re the right people. I know it,” Lena says, and it throws Kara’s entire universe on its head. 

Because knowing that somewhere, somehow, she and Lena are forever is all Kara needs. 

She stands up. Reaches for Lena’s hair and lets her fingertips card through it one last time. 

11:59pm. 

“I love you,” she says again, because she doesn’t know how to say anything else.

“Always,” Lena replies. 

She’s smiling. 

Kara can’t believe that Lena’s smiling. 

Until she realises with a skip of Lena’s heartbeat — or maybe it’s her own? — that she’s smiling too. 

She uses her super speed to slip on her shirt and shoes, and then she’s standing by the door. A couple of seconds pass and then Lena is standing in the doorway of Kara’s bedroom, leaning against the wall. 

Kara lets herself imagine for a second that she’ll be there when she comes back. Lets herself imagine that she’s just running out to buy bagels or doughnuts or potstickers or pancake mix, and when she comes back she and Lena will share each other’s food and fall asleep together. 

She closes her eyes. 

Breathes. 

Leaves. 

It’s midnight. 

She’s gone. 

The world keeps on spinning. 

 

Lena leaves Kara’s apartment an hour later and pauses longingly before finally closing the door. 

Kara hears the sound of it from 3000 miles away on the west coast. 

She pretends not to hear when Lena whispers, “I forgive you, Supergirl,” before heading down the hall towards the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Writing this, even though it's less than 10k words, has been kind of transformative for me. I was scared to post this story because there's so much of me in it, of real life experiences, but ultimately I'm glad I've got it out there because it's helped me make sense of a lot of things in my own life. It's helped me gain a little bit of the closure that I've been wishing for for a long time. 
> 
> I know that really it's a sad story, but I hope you can see the peace in the ending. That sometimes people just aren't made for each other and that that's okay and it doesn't mean that they never loved each other. 
> 
> I need to go and write nothing but fluff for like fifteen years now. So feel free to check out my fluff series if you're feeling as heavy as I am after this :P I'm also planning a The Greatest Showman AU that I'm SO EXCITED TO WRITE. So stick with me, please? I swear all my fics aren't this depressing!! 
> 
> Thank you for all of the comments on this; reading through them has made me so happy and I'm going to reply to them all really soon! Work has just been crazy lately and I haven't had a lot of free time. 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this ending! And the chapter/story in general, maybe? I'd really super appreciate it.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop me a comment, please! Or a kudos. Or both if you want to. (Honestly, either/or means the world to me.)


End file.
